Creep
by replacemewithher
Summary: Beneath the stars Kendall feels like he can breathe again, like this foreign concept known as freedom is not such a parable anymore, but tangible. Slash! Kames! Addiction to bad habits. Kendall centric.


A/N: So this is my first BTR fic and I'm excited but scared and yeah. :) It's a semi-song fic, but not really, and I've really put my own spin on Creep (because I know the song isn't about what I'm writing about...but I'm allowed to have creative licence, right?)

Disclaimer: Creep by Radiohead is not mine and nor is BIG TIME RUSH!

This is also angst that turned into cringe worthy fluff at the end so I'm sorry. yeah.

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><p>When you were here before<p>

Couldn't look you in the eye

Beneath the stars Kendall feels like he can breathe again, like this foreign concept known as freedom is not such a parable anymore, but tangible. James' fingers are intertwined within his own, and he thinks about how secret lovers used to lie like this, whenever Courtly Love was all the rage. He likes that he can share the world with James, like the stars are shining just for the two of them.

It's these moments, the moments when the sun is setting or the beginning to rise, when James' cheeks burn red from the compliments that spring from Kendall's mouth, even though he has no idea he has said anything, it's these moments that make Kendall feel like he is truly free. He realises, amongst the Hollywood hills, that no amount of corporate bullshit can interrupt these moments.

It's times like these that he remembers Zeus, that he remembers that old mythological tale and thinks that James is his other half, his second heart, his two arms. He feels so content that he thinks about how it would feel to die in these moments, and he has come to the conclusion that he wouldn't care if he did. Not in moments like these. Because he has already experienced pure perfection.

You're just like an angel

Your skin makes me cry

Kendall hates being inside his apartment, hates seeing the city lights when he looks out of his bedroom window. James is mesmerised by them. He can sit for hours at the window, completely awed by the dazzling lights. "Light's don't come like that in Minnesota," James says, and he's right. Kendall thinks, that for James, staring at the lights probably means staring his dream in the face and realising it was happening. Kendall would do anything to give James the world.

Kendall thinks about this, for the first couple of months, when he realises he can't get outside of his own head more than anyone can get in it. He's completely consumed by thoughts, thoughts that continually build up and appear seemingly out of nowhere, with the purpose of only instilling self-doubt and self-hatred within.

And, okay.

Kendall's never really liked himself. He generally keeps himself occupied by other people so that he can avoid his own problems. Of course, that's when he admits he has them. Most of the time he'll try and focus on those around him, perceiving how fucked up their lives are, just to reassure himself that he's okay. But more often than not, he won't even put himself in the equation.

He thinks that was maybe dangerous, because then he started to feel like he wasn't real.

Not in the same sense when he and James once smoked pot when they were fifteen, but in the sense that he wasn't really sure of himself, anymore. Wasn't sure if he was a person or a soldier or robot or whatever. He found it difficult to differentiate the real from imaginary, (and knowing his luck, he was probably schizophrenic or something) which became an even harder task with this whole Hollywood thing. And then he had to stare at the sign every night while he tried to fall asleep.

He only did it once before, and he wasn't even sure why. It didn't leave a scar and it didn't draw blood like everyone says, mostly because no-one actually has the guts to press hard enough. He wasn't trying to kill himself, he was just trying to see if it he was...real.

It left a small pink mark that faded within a few seconds and Kendall vowed to never do it again, because it was stupid and pointless and it may get serious, and he could never let that happen.

You float like a feather

In a beautiful world

Kendall supposes that James is tired of trying to live a life in which they only see stars. Which, Kendall thinks, is ironic, considering James' dream. But, he supposes, everyone grows up and grows out of things, even things like relationships and sitting beneath the stars, owning the world. Everyone grows out of those little things, like fingers intertwined and hearts beating in time.

Kendall would know, after all. James did grow out of it.

Kendall still lies beneath the stars, transfixed. James lies next to him, too, but the once peaceful time is broken with James' constant motor-engine mouth running, and Kendall gets aggravated more often than not, hushing him.

He wants to enjoy the feeling, like being free isn't too far off. And for Kendall, he really feels like it's not so far away. Not anymore, after all.

He thinks he maybe shouldn't feel empowered by what he does, knows that it's probably unhealthy, but he can't come to terms with that aspect. It makes him happy and it helps him, and it gives him that instant aspect of freedom, and that sense of reality that he needs.

Kendall's says this to James one night, when James is in the middle of shouting at him, hands clinging desperately to Kendall's wrists.

James stares at him for a good five minutes, before he responds with, "Kendall, do you even _realise_ how _far gone_ you are? You _have got_ to stop. _Please._ Kendall, you need _help._"

Kendall doesn't even hear James, he just keeps on and on about how it's sort of like his saviour, and if he were of any religion, it would be that one where the cavemen decided making sharp things was a good idea.

James kisses him, then, desperately, desperate for Kendall to stop talking and to start listening, but Kendall doesn't respond to the kiss. He just lies there. In the moonlight, lying on the grass beneath the stars, Kendall could be a corpse.

And what scares James the most is, Kendall's not too far off.

I wish I was special

You're so fucking special

James tries to be around, all the time. He hates that his relationship with Kendall is so far gone, that _Kendall_ is so far gone. Around everyone else, Kendall is still pretty paranoid, covering his scars with bracelets or make up or long sleeves or anything he could get his hands on.

The first time Kendall asked Mrs. Knight to borrow her foundation, she cried and said she had found bloodstains on his hoodie sleeves. Kendall tried to deny it, venehmetly, but then James looked at him from the corner of the room and Kendall knew James must've told.

He kicks James off of his bed that night, in a terrible mood. He couldn't _believe_ James, his boyfriend, would do something like that to him.

"Kendall, I'm sorry," James says to him, very sweetly and earnestly. "I'm sorry, but you _need _help. You can't keep doing this."

"I'm not doing anything," Kendall responds heatedly, burrowing under the covers.

"Kendall, it isn't healthy—"

"—I _know_ what it is and what it _isn't._" He snaps, "But _I _can deal with it. _I _can handle it, ok? I'm trying to forget about it, I'm going to stop—"

"Going?" James scoffs. "You're _going_ to stop. How many times have you said that to me now, Kendall? You never have a set date. Every time you say that, you take two steps back. You have a problem. You need help!"

"I _don't_ have a problem and I can _help_ myself!"

James crawls over to his bed then, moving the blanket off his boyfriend and gently grabbing his boyfriend's wrists.

"I let you get on with this for too long. Remember when you left a scar the first time? And you were so scared that you told me what you were doing?"

Kendall shrugs, non-committed.

"Remember that night, Kendall? We sat in your favourite spot and you cried and said you had never meant for it to get that far. Kendall, this was before you were even drawing _blood. _And it took _weeks_ for that scar to fade, and when it did you were so relived."

Kendall can feel his demeanour weakening against his boyfriends' words. James, after all, is home. And that's the only place he can be completely and utterly at ease. And free.

He burrows against James, gently. He doesn't want James to think that he's given in to him, because he hasn't. Kendall _knows_ he can stop _if _he wants to. It just so happens that he _doesn't_ really want to.

"Kendall, I've never..." James hesitates then sighs, saying "I love you."

Kendall connects intertwines his hand to James' from where it's sitting on his wrist, bringing them both up to his lips and mouthing "I love you too." Pissed or not, he can never not say those words to James.

James moves his free hand off Kendall's wrist and begins to run it through his hair. He's hoping it'll soothe Kendall. It does, in a way. It's almost like those nights, those nights way back when, they spent the night out under the stars and being free was so close, so accessible. Those nights when James and Kendall were two star-crossed lovers, when they were one human being ripped apart by Zeus only to have found each other.

Those nights when Kendall could breathe, when he wasn't always panicking about how to hide new scars or panicking when he couldn't find anything sharp. Those nights before he realised cutting himself could bring himself freedom. It didn't, not really. It was a trap.

"Kendall, are you...you're not trying to kill yourself, are you?"

The words ring in his hears, so loudly that they're occupying the entire space of their bedroom. They combine with the harsh light of the city lights outside and give Kendall a blinding headache. He isn't stupid. Never.

"No." He whispers the response, because those words made the room too loud. He would never _ever_ try to kill himself.

"That's what it seems like, sometimes." James whispers.

Kendall shakes his head, desperate to convey that it was _never_ about that. Ever. It was...It was about lots of things, but mostly freedom and _reality_ and _being_ home.

Kendall realises he doesn't want to do this anymore. He realises that, those first nights they sat, lying under the stars, he had the freedom and the reality and the home right next to him, he was just too scared to get closer to it.

He says it in a voice so softly James has to lean down and strain to hear it. His voice is shaking and he's whimpering while he says it, but James has never felt more proud of anyone in his life.

"_Help me."_

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo

What the hell am I doing here?

Some nights Kendall can't stand the city he lives in or the industry he's accidentally gotten himself into. He'll impatiently slam the window in his bedroom shut, close the curtains and put the sheet over the part of the window the curtains don't cover. He has to get ice cubes, sometimes, and hold them in his hands until the urge goes away. Whenever James comes home to find Kendall in this position, he feels conflicted. He feels upset that the urge is still there, but so damn proud that Kendall isn't giving in.

Sometimes, if it's in the middle of the night and Kendall feels like it's all too much, he'll crawl into James' bed. James wakes up, as soon as he feels Kendall's presence, and he'll gently pull him close towards him, intertwining their hands and legs. He'll beg Kendall to tell him what's wrong, and sometimes Kendall does. Other times, he shrugs and kisses James, murmuring "I love you."

Kendall thinks that there was maybe a better way to handle everything, the time after he and James become one entity. He realises that, there was, a healthier way to release endorphins and a far better addiction, but he tries to not dwell on the past too much. He reveals in the feelings he had that night with James, how he had felt so safe, so _himself_. He didn't have to hide _anything_, and Kendall realises that is what it truly means to be _free._

He still goes to his special spot, with James. The place holds so many memories, and the stars above them have watched it all. When Kendall was younger, his mother told him that the stars in the sky are guardian angels, looking down on you, to make sure you're safe.

When he and James stay at that place one night, after sharing blazing passion like courtly lovers would, he looks up to the stars in the sky, staring at one that seems to be shining brighter than the others.

"Does everything feel real here?" James murmurs, and his voice is cloudy with sleep.

"Everything feels perfect here." Kendall confirms.

James peeks one eye open from behind Kendall, his arms wrapped around his waist. He follows his boyfriends line of vision to the bright star.

James smiles.

"It's like that star enjoyed our show." He jokes. "Voyeuristic."

Kendall smiles slightly.

"It does seem to be watching us, right?"

"Yeah." James breathes.

_Except not for the same reason you think,_ Kendall thinks.

He thinks it's maybe his dad, blinking back tears, watching his son overcome something so stupid. Something that tore the family apart the first time.

He doesn't voice this to James. It's not that he wants to hide it. It's just that he wants to keep this connection to himself, for a little longer. To realise just how proud of himself he really is. To realise how far he's come.

"Thank you for everything, James." He murmurs, turning his head to kiss his boyfriend. "you saved me."

James smiles softly,

"No," he says, "You saved yourself. I watched you, Kendall. And I've never been more proud."

Kendall feels his eyes well up and James kisses him, gently. He pulls back to see a single tear trail down his boyfriends face and uses his thumb to wipe it off.

"I love you," James whispers.

"I love _you._" Kendall responds.

James lies back down, behind Kendall, linking one of their hands together. They both stare at the sky together, stargazing like they did all that time ago. When being free was almost tangible.

And now, Kendall was here. _He was free._

Kendall closes his eyes, only to have a single drop of rain to splash the back of his eyelid. Reacting to the cold, he opens his eyes and is met with the bright star.

He instantly knows he was right about the star.

So he musters up all the courage he has left, and he smiles for his dad.


End file.
